The Skull and the Hand [Open, see OoC]

[Priscilla Malatrast]

Priscilla wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but she was overcome with relief when she saw the Battlemage lose her focus. She lowered her arm and pulled the sleeve back over the mark. She hadn't really intended to use it, although with the situation quickly degenerating into an ugly standoff, she was worried that she'd be forced to.

The Battlemage bent down, lighting matches at her legs. Priscilla wondered what value this detour would have--if the mage was preparing some sort of attack--and she tensed, gripping the head of her cane, free hand reaching into her cloak... and then she saw it: her opening. The Battlemage had turned from her to yell at the crowd. That's when it dawned on her--she'd received a little outside help.

In a surprisingly swift motion for a woman her age, she swept behind Ryxa, drew her curved knife, and crooked it around her neck. She pulled back, not hard enough to cut, but enough for the intruder to feel the blade's sharpness.

"I've been alive for more than a century," she said, voice low but once again calm and sinister. "It's made me frail, but it's given me plenty of time to learn, and one of life's lessons that I've taken to heart is be patient."

"So, instead of attacking you when you first introduced yourself, when I didn't rightly know exactly what a rude little whore you'd turn out to be and when you were most ready for an attack, I waited for an opening. And now look where we are.."

She pulled the blade back briefly to demonstrate her 'point.'

"Now.. I don't know where you got that bit about my ruthlessness. Under other circumstances you might have found me a very reasonable woman, but my patience this night has been sorely tested. Truly tested."

She cleared her throat, and when she spoke again, her words had a less sinister cadence. "A lust for magic--power--is something I can understand. And not only am I a patient, reasonable woman, I am also, at times, a curious one. Whatever you've gone to all this.. trouble.. to discuss with me... It must be important, so I'll give you one last chance. If you really wish to speak with me, you may, but..."

"Bring me the Restrictor," she said to the servant who had first alerted her of Ryxa's presence. He nodded and disappeared toward the back of the room.

"But your hands will be bound so that aggression on your part will be completely out of question. And if the kind soul who just lent me his or her assistance would care to join us, I will be accompanied by a 'second' to further ensure that nothing unpleasant occurs."

She pulled the blade back again. "It's your choice--bound, but alive and talking to me as you had wished or on the stones before you, drowning in your own blood--and you should choose quickly. Legend has it that this blade has a mind of its own... one that often opts for the spilling of blood."

[Devon]

She cleared her throat, and And if the kind soul who just lent me his or her assistance would care to join us, I will be accompanied by a 'second' to further ensure that nothing unpleasant occurs."

A second, devon wondered. There were a few meanings that the Madame could have meant, second in the room; second on her side; second in command... He had shown her that she could trust him in her motives, but doubted she meant anything more than he was allowed to attend the meeting between the two. Either way he wanted to go.

Should he though, that was the question. He had used the shadows for a means to an end. They weren't supposed to be tied to him, they were his back up plan. Here he was though, being forced to choose between showing that he truly could produce shadows, or stay unknown in his safety. He thought about that for a minute, still keeping his arms crossed about his chest, he rolled his head back and gave a sigh.

He had made up his mind. He had noticed before that people looked to be nonverbally taking credit for his magic, that simply wouldn't do. He was the only one to have that credit and renown. Fine, he thought, what the hell I still have the heat as a backup just not the shadows.

He stepped out past the crowd, gently pushing people in front of him out of his way. People were staring at him, with a little more fear then curiosity. They knew that he could control shadows, and they knew that he didn't exactly care now if they knew it or not. He approached the mage and the Madame, he stood with his hands interlocked out in front of him to show he was concealing nothing. When he stopped by the Madame's side, he bowed his head and spoke.

"Madame, it was I who tried to bind her with my shadows. I apologize for my rudeness in not stepping forth beforehand when she insulted me. Please, think it not cowardice but caution." He raised his head to look at the two women as he came to a conclusion of his words.

He felt that he should look them into the eye. He sometimes thought himself a coward in using the shadows, a weapon unseen, opposed to an outright attack. He knew he needed to do something when he used them, but didn't want to get himself in too deep too early though.

He remembered how she said she could use a "second" to come along to ensure nothing went awry. That was his sole purpose at the moment, to ensure her safety, and most likely to add to her amusement for his insult to the mage.

It was time for him not to talk, but to listen. He didn't like to be ordered much he felt belittled and weak when someone told him what to do. He never wanted to be in a position wehre he had to follow strict guidelines and rules, but since she hadn't ordered him merely requested, he said one last thing.

"I will accompany you, as you wish Madame."

Here was his chance to prove himself worthy of the gathering. As he took one last glance around the room, he wondered how many of the others could say the same. He had taken a chance in revealing himself, so far it had not been a mistake, he hoped that would last. He liked that the mage hadn't seen him, he gathered a little hope that if things went badly, she had only heard his voice and not seen his face. He didn't wish to lose all caution to the wind with this rebel of mages. She might only have the best intentions on learning, but if that was a facade and she truly wished to have the gathering punished he wouldn't want his face to be known to her.

He stood there, bowing his head again in respect, awaiting their next move.

[Blood Ravenous]

Ryxa was silent as she pondered what to do. She probably could shove the old woman off since she was already stretching to reach Ryxa's neck. Priscilla was so much shorter and frailer than her. However, the dagger was sharp and perhaps imbued with some sort of magic, as suggested. Well, that could be a bluff, but not likely, since this old woman knew magic.

On the other hand, Ryxa was going to get what she wanted, in a fashion: a conversation with the old witch, but while bound and supposedly helpless. However, that sort of situation allowed Priscilla to say what she wanted and no more; how much information could Ryxa obtain as the weaker one?

Someone else, a male of some sort, had joined them. The damned one who had latched that thing onto her leg and got her into this mess. Her anger boiled. She wanted to reach out and let him feel the pain of a thousand sharp points being encased in his body, or being beheaded, or cut into by Moryldar... But that would come. More than anything right now, that is what she wanted: to torture them both for this humiliation.

That is what convinced her. No matter what this "Restrictor" was, she could get out of it and exact her revenge with surprise. Ohh, that would be glorious, to see the look on their faces...

It was dead silent in the room. No one moved, except for the servant Priscilla had sent to fetch something. Into this gloom, Ryxa smiled as sweetly as she could; it was still more of a sarcastic grin. "And now why do you need that knife for our pleasant conversation? And why would I harm you if I wanted to talk? You’re being quite impatient and unreasonable, Lady Malatrast. But just this once, I’ll let you have your way, if you must. But only if our ‘second’ here is tied up as well. He seems more aggressive and more likely to cause unpleasantries than the both of us.” She lightly touched the blade at her throat, which she feared may leave a line, not quite a cut but slightly enduring nonetheless. She had to arch her back away from the blade because of the height difference and it was quite uncomfortable.

[Priscilla Malatrast]

Priscilla chuckled at Ryxa's backtracking--how far the arrogant, meddling battlemage had come from her thinly veiled threats of imprisonment and execution and her talk of 'official business' to these assertions of her harmless intents.

"As you wish," Priscilla said. As her assistant returned with the manacles, she withdrew the knife, making pointed effort to graze its tip painfully across Ryxa's throat. She nodded, and her second assistant took her roughly by the arms and spun her around.

Priscilla took the Restrictor and dangled it suggestively before Ryxa's eyes. It was a strange set of cuffs, bracers about the length of a large man's forearm, merged together. There appeared to be no openings but for the holes at the elbow and wrist. Around both of those openings were hundreds of jagged edges, already crusted with blood. On the bridge between the cuffs was an elaborately crafted skull.. One eye sockets was set with an emerald, the other with a ruby, and its open mouth glittered with hundreds of small, sharp teeth. Closing her eyes and grimacing, Priscilla stuck her index finger into the maw of the skull, and it snapped down around it. The sharp teeth drew blood.

The skull parted along its midline, opening the cuffs, and Priscilla's assistant jammed Ryxa's arms into it unceremoniously. Priscilla put her finger in her mouth and made a lurid show of sucking on it suggestively. Her lips smacked as she drew it out. Without a word, her assistant closed the cuffs again behind Ryxa's back.

"Now.. for the second..." Priscilla mused, rubbing her bleeding finger slowly along her lips and lapping at the streaks of blood she left behind. She whispered to one of her attendants, who left to fetch something. "I'm afraid there's only one Restrictor.. It was crafted for Thar's most dangerous prisoner, a Djinn bound by a summoner who had gone mad. The summoner's madness inflicted itself on the Djinn as well, and the devil refused to return to its own plane after it's task was fulfilled, so it was kept here, in this dungeon until the torture of staying in its corporeal form was too much and it willed itself to die, so that it could return. These cuffs were enchanted so that any harm inflicted onto the captor..."

She pressed her finger against one of the skull's sharp teeth.

"Would be reflected onto the one held captive."

Her assistant returned holding a coil of rope. "So, I'm afraid rope will have to do."

She took the rope and bound Devon's hands behind his back herself. She made sure not to make the coils too tight, and as she cinched the last knot, she pressed a cold, sharp stone into his palm and closed his fingers around it.

"Follow me," she said. She pressed her way through the crowd and opened a thick wooden door into a back-room. Unlike the barren, ruined hall, this room had been restored. The walls were sound, a thick, ornate rug covered the stone floor, and seven padded chairs lined a table before a hearth, in which a small fire burned contentedly.

[Devon]

That pig-headed, foul mouthed, low down, stupid wench of a flea bitten mutt! How dare she have his Madame tie him up!? Albeit obviously a lot less dramatically, but he was still bound. Thank whatever gods there be that there was only one restrictor. He didn't know if she was telling the truth and quite frankly, he didn't care; what he did care about was that he was tied with ropes and he had a cutting stone in his hand. He smiled to himself as he dipped his head, he didn't need the stone to be honest, but he was glad that for right now his magical fire abilities could stay hidden.

Devon wondered if there was any possible way to make it out of those binds. If there was, no doubt the way was painful, but this was a battlemage, he thought. Then again, this was the Madame also, no doubt she would take all the proper precautions when it came to her own safety. He raised his head an addressed the two ladies.

"Thank you Madame for letting me join you, even if it is in one of the most unusal ways I've ever known. Next time though, if I may be so bold, could you not make the knots so tight?" He lied, the knot was fine and the ropes were anything but tight, but to the battle mages eyes they seemed to do the trick.

"As for you, Ms. Mage. My shadows would have caused you no harm at all, a deed far better than what would have come from the battle that would have most likely ensued. So excuse me if I try and save my Madame's hide as well as your own life, however pathetic, non-existant, trivial and worthless it may end up being. You seem to have no manners whatsoever, throwing around insults and threats in another's place of dwelling. You got what you want though, and to be honest, I admire your spunk for having me tied up. Well done."

He grinned, he stared directly at her from where he was now sitting, and grinned.
He smiled wider and opened his mouth and fully down-right laughed at her.

"It won't do you any good though. If I still wanted to use my power, I wouldn't need my arms to do it. My mouth is still uncovered, and whispers are all I need..."

His voice trailed off at the end of his lie, no he didn't need his arms, that was true, but he didn't need to use words or whispers either. The shadows seemed to come from will alone, like they almost wanted to help him cause mischief. He made sure to use the word power, not powers. Thses two were definately a force to be reckoned with, no matter what side your dead body might lie on. Those bindings, talk of Djinn and devils, scared the living blue blood right out of him. He preferred not to bring up devils or demons if the choice presented himself. He was almost afraid to, he knew not what would call them to this world and plain out didn't want to. What he did know, was that demonic blood coursed through his veins, and he was afraid of what would happen if a demon, specifically the demon was called into his presence.

He eyed the mage again after his thoughts had cleared. His smile faded, and head dropped to a bow.

"Forgive me my manners though Ms. Mage. I do believe I am merely a spectator in this conversation. So I will be silent, the Madame may even cover my mouth with a rag or such to stop me from interfering. Yes, I will be silent, and you will get your conversation. Please carry on."

He looked to the Madame now, and gave her a slight nod, as if he was actually giving her permission to curb his tounge, and stay his words. He made a slight glance to a nearby corner and then immediately looked back. If she were to look, she would notice a small wisp of shadow moving back and forth on the ground protruding from the corner. He waited for her to look, and again...he smiled.

[Priscilla Malatrast]

Priscilla chuckled as Devon heaped insults upon the bound battlemage. It served that trollop right to be put in her place by the brash young man who had turned up so unexpectedly. She wondered what had brought him to the meeting.. Was he a new recruit? Whatever the case, if his cunning and resourcefulness were any clue, he clearly belonged.

She narrowed her eyes, searching his features for a tell. Dark eyes, dark hair.. they gave her nothing. Everything about him seemed focused inward. Everything but his words. What was his motive? She stared at his face, gaze wandering across his skin. As yet unworried by time, it bore no marks, no clues. It was just fresh... young... and it glowed in the firelight. Her focus drifted as she stared at his strong nose, strong chin, pink, disdainful lips...

That's when she saw him glance away for an instant. She followed his line of sight to see a shadow flicking out of tune with the dancing light of the fire. She winked and flashed him an intimate and conspiratorial grin before settling herself into the chair closest to the fire.

"Yes," she replied, hitching up her robe to cross her legs comfortably. "Let's."

[Blood Ravenous]

As the little boy talked—and that was how she now thought of him, as just a boy—her eyebrows were raised in a show of disinterest. Eyes glazed over with blandness, she watched him nonetheless. Whatever powers he had, hers were better. It didn't matter what he said. However, she didn't miss a word spoken or the subtlest twitch; she may need it later. And when he mentioned putting a rag over his mouth to shut him up if he spoke out of turn, she laughed inwardly. So he had lied about whispering magic, hadn't he? Did he think she was stupid? In fact, Ryxa was very alert and watchful; nothing escaped her notice when it came to people. It would make no sense for someone on the side of power in this room to have his own magic silenced when it might prove so useful. So why suggest it? He must have forgotten his lie of a moment ago, that’s why. A slight look of mirth came over her disinterested face.

She decided to keep silent, though it was hard to do so while being insulted. At least it helped her decide on who her new toy would be. She thought he seemed weaker than Chrishton and Lucian, but with the same strong will. For now, that contented her enough to focus on what she was here for. The sooner they had their conversation, the sooner she could leave.

It was then she noticed the almost imperceptible nod, and she looked with Priscilla to the corner. At first she didn't notice anything, but as she was about to turn back she saw the shadow move. When she did turn back it was to see them grinning conspiratorially at each other. Her eyebrows rose again, and she couldn't help a chuckle.

"Alright, can we please get these little games over with? I also don't think bending my words over backwards to make petty jokes will help us finish this. So let's act like the nobility we are, Mistress Priscilla Malatrast, and have a polite conversation like I came here for." Or did she? She doubted herself. It had been at least a decade since she had asked someone for help; she no longer knew how. So she played it by ear. She shifted her arms, which were becoming uncomfortable in the vice; a sharp edge pricked her wrist when she moved. But, she repressed the grimace it caused and continued.

"What I'm here for is a book. Or, at least, the knowledge of the book. It was written by a man named Dr. Lozar Grunnin. He lived here about a hundred and fifty years ago, when the city was shattered after the occupying army left and before it became the grand city it is today.” Somehow she didn’t sound sarcastic when she said, ‘grand.’ “After his death it was discovered that he had been a practitioner of black magic in addition to healing, because he had written a book over the decades of his life—apparently, his real life’s work—about a certain spell. There have never been any copies of the book made and the original has been locked up in Justice Hall for...quite some time. However, now it is gone. Of course, a Judge or Battlemage may have taken it to read, but that is not likely. I won’t tell you why that is so. I believe someone with particular skill stole it within the last twenty years. And of course, who better to ask than someone so notorious for black magic such as yourself?” ‘So notorious’ meant that at least someone knew of it, which meant the government could find out. And that was indeed dangerously notorious.

[Priscilla Malatrast]

Priscilla drew herself up at the mention of the Doctor's name. How had she known..? It was the first book that had come into her possession on the ancient arts of summoning--the book that had been sold to her on the market what seemed like so many years ago. By now she knew every crack of its worn cover, each tatter of its pages, and she knew it did not describe a single spell. Perhaps to the untrained, it might seem like a book written on one thing, but each ritual described within it had its own variation, own subtly different purpose.

"You've never seen the book have you?" Priscilla asked, now sitting up straight, both legs planted firmly on the floor. "None of you have!"

She stood, pushing her chair back with such unnatural force that it slammed into the wall and shattered. Her grew deep and cacophonous, as if another voice had begun to speak in unison with her.

"You kept its words locked up there!! It was hidden that it might not be studied, might not be spread, when that was its sole purpose for existing! Why not destroy it then? Why make a mockery of our words? We have offered you much, but you turned from us, spurning our gift to you at the first sign of hardship. Do you think that our plane was not forged with war? Do you think that the landscape as we know it now was not once shattered by magic? Do you think our power came without cost? You seek knowledge, but you have not learned the pillar upon which all knowledge rests--that YOU-KNOW-NOTHING!!"

She screamed loudly, head back, muscles of her neck bulging and her arms spread wide. She screamed with such intensity that the room trembled before her thousand voices.

As suddenly as the fit had taken her, it left her, and she collapsed to the ground. Her old eyes had lost their piercing intensity, and she looked as one might expect a woman of her age to look in the middle of a room filled with prisoners and splinters--lost and confused. She searched the faces of the room for some clue, but their reactions led her only further astray.

She sat up and stared blankly at the man with the black hair. "Who are you? What is your name?"

And then she turned to Ryxa, and her composure returned. She reached for her fallen cane and rose to her feet painfully to stand close in front of the battlemage, face once more in the clutch of a disdainful look, as if nothing at all had happened.

"The book you seek is in my possession. What use could you possibly have for it? You do know that it was ruined many years ago? Very few of its contents could be read, even on the night it came to me, and I am afraid the last twenty years of its two centuries have made naught but worse for the wear."

She stared up at Ryxa as her free hand pressed loose hairs back into her neat bun. Some nervous chatter could be heard from outside, though none dared enter.

[Devon]

Wow, Devon thought, he figured that the madame was hot tempered but she seemed to just go off the deep end. Literally. She went nuts when the mage brought up the book. Hmm, what was in that book? The mage had said a spell, but the madame had ultimately called her a liar for it.

The madame questioned him, but it was about who he was! Ofcourse this had not come up before, but it was if she had totally forgot she had invited him.

"Madame, my name is Akula. You invited me here. I am your guest, is there anything I can do? You look disturbed a bit by what the mage said about the book. Is everything alright?"

He didn't particularly like the mage, he found her rude and abrasive. At the same time though, the madame had scared him, he didn't do anything and when it ultimately came down to it neither had the mage. He felt scared and the first thing that came to his mind when he was scared, was fleeing. He called the shadows closer, he had planned them for his weapon, but now he thought about using them as his getaway. Maybe even the mage's. The question came though, who did he want to tick off more, the Madame for saving her enemy and himself from harm or the mage for not taking her out of useless harm.

I will wait, he thought. And wait he shall.

[Blood Ravenous]

Ryxa flinched as the chair hit the wall, shattering with a loud crack. Her eyes showed a hint of true fear as she leaned back away from the suddenly powerful presence of the old woman. The hair at the back of her neck stood on end and a tingling feeling spread down her back as she realized that it wasn't just Priscilla talking. This scared her. Then, as Priscilla (and whatever else that was in her) screamed out, Ryxa cringed—not excessively, but she tucked her arms closer to herself as she was leaning back, and her shoulders seemed smaller.

When the witch collapsed, the feeling disappeared, and Ryxa quickly rearranged herself as if nothing had happened. The fear was gone as quickly as she glimpsed it, and left her pondering what had just happened. It was obviously about the book—the power of the book. She didn't like the fact that it seemed to somehow control the lady, rather than her controlling it. Perhaps this wasn't what she was looking for.

The battlemage met the disdainful gaze that came later with an unflinching, unmoved expression. "I want to read it. I care not if it is within the Judges' clutches; better it is not, actually. You may keep it. I only wish to study it. My reasons are my own." Not that you'd understand them, you old hag, having everyone scurry around underneath you without confrontation, she added silently. Never facing down brutes like Chrishton or souls like Lucian.

[Priscilla Malatrast]

The young, dark-haired--what was he? Recruit? Mage? Sorcerer?--was getting antsy. Priscilla could almost smell his anxiety and indecision, and she could certainly read it on his face. Whatever the case, she'd invited him--apparently--and she didn't want to reveal how much of her memory had just slipped through the cracks.

"Of course I invited you. You're..." Priscilla glanced at the woman-mage's venomous expression. "You're.. my protector--my guard. You think I needed to be told that?! Watch your tongue, boy, or you'll soon find yourself back at whatever muck farm you dragged yourself off of to get here! I had simply forgotten your name! And you have no idea how easy it is to do that when you've learned as many names as I!"

She talked over the mage, and only half-heard whatever it was that she said. Just that she wanted to study something. And of course she did.. everyone did. They all wanted to study, the disciples of magic. Priscilla smiled. When it came right down to it, this mage was no different than the rest of them, so she would be treated no differently.

"Although I am unfamiliar with the way things work in government circles, I trust that you are familiar with the way things work outside of them. Information is not freely disseminated among us. Magic is illegal, and, thus, difficult to learn. As a result of this.. difficulty.. we usually opt to provide information in exchange. Now, I have the information you seek, so the question is what you have to offer me."

She brushed her hand against Ryxa's soft cheek. With a motherly clucking noise, she turned away and found herself another chair to sit in.

[Devon]

Pfft, this old broad was crazy. Devon thought at first that maybe she was just, well eccentric? He was wrong, the dark arts and the old wrinkly faced, creaking bones, smelly body, plain out old age had gotton to her. This lady was senile! Then again, she was the one that could teach him what he needed to know. Still though, not only was he not important enough to her to make him stick in her memory, she had insulted him to boot! Fine ya old lady, he thought, you better hope that mage ya ticked off doesn't get free. I might just let her take the first hit on your old wrinkly face...

"I do apologize Madame, I did not mean to make assumptions. Your are wise, and truly do know more than I could ever wish to glimpse at." He said this most humbly, inside his thoughts were completely different. Yeah wench, look all important in front of your prisoner. Crazy old hag!

The true question of this matter was...What was the mage thinking about? Was she trying to plan a way out? Devon didn't really think it mattered, the Madame would have to be either completely stupid or endearingly trusting to let the mage free. They had already had a few little spits at each other since they met, it was only a matter of time before they did it again.

[Priscilla Malatrast]

The stranger's--Akula's?--humble acquiescing put the last of Priscilla's anxieties to rest--had he been someone truly important (or powerful for that matter), he would have made it known that she had crossed the line.

Free of fear, she turned her attention back to truly important matters--namely the deal with the battlemage. If a deal could be struck, she could be assured of some degree of amnesty from the Hall of Justice. If not, the battlemage was likely to return and report what she had seen. Priscilla mulled things over in the tense silence that followed her offer. She started to pick nervously at her teeth, scraping off the mossy plaque that had coated them during the long day, but stopped herself quickly.

"Well?" she asked. The battlemage offered no immediate response. Instead, she continued to sit just as she had before, unflinching and unmoved. Priscilla fumed. Never in her life, not even when she was nothing more than the wife of a two-bit aristocrat, had she been spurned so directly. Never.

The silence grated on her until she could no longer hold things together. Snapping, she rose and roared at the seated mage.

"you.. UGLY... TART! How DARE you?!" she screeched. Her withered voice took on a surprising intensity. "You stupid BITCH!

She reached into her robe, withdrew again the ritual knife, and approached. Face inches from the woman's, she stooped some to lock eyes with her. Priscilla's eyes flashed with anger, fueled even more, perhaps, by the impassivity she was met with.

She raised her blade.

And slashed.

There was a brief flash, a rivulet of red, and then a small clicking noise.

Nursing the wound on her wrist, Priscilla backed off. Blood covered the skull at the joints of the enchanted cuffs which had once bound the battlemage, but were now expanding to free her wrists.

"Get out," she said. The battlemage didn't move. What was she playing at?

"GET OUT!" Priscilla yelled. "GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!!!"

At this, Priscilla's two assistants burst into the room, took the old woman by the arms, and escorted her outside. She hung between them, limp with exertion, supported by their strong grips.

[Devon]

Devon was, if nothing else, amused. He had seen the almighty and powerful woman, or so he thought, go completely senile and back again in a matter of moments. The mage had just sat there quiet and impassive, and the Madame had turned inside out at that prospect. Where did this leave Devon? His only major contribution to this whole scheme was that he somehow made the Madame happy by ticking off the mage.

The question posed itself now though, what was he to do now? Well the acting as an idiotic and naive bodyguard worked once, why not a second time? He took the sharp stone that she had given him and cut the weak bindings around him. Within moments he was standing again and Devon walked toward the Madame, but cautiously so and stayed a distance away from her.

"Madame, permit me if I may ask, you called me in here to proceed with you through the conversation and act on your behalf if anything went awry. I hope I acted in a measure that met your expectance. I ask now, what will you have me do Madame?"

He bowed his head low, nearly dipping his chest in a sign of humility. He knew that the Madame was probably his best bet in learning to control his powers, if not enhance them. She also gave him a sanctuary and a brotherhood for home and safety. Hell, with all that she had unknowingly done for him, it's the least he could do to make her happy by acting if she was omnipotent. Then again, from what he had seen, Devon laughed inside when he pictured the Madame thinking she was all powerful. Who was he to argue?

[Priscilla Malatrast]

Priscilla paid the young man no heed as he followed her. Eventually, she was able to walk on her own again, and her assistants let go of her arms. By this time, she was outside of the ruins. The gathering had disbanded--as she had suspected it would--at the first signs of trouble from the battlemage.

The clearing around the ancient fortress was filled with broken stones that almost glowed in the moon's powerful light. The hem of Priscilla's robes dragged through the crumpled leaves and the dirt as she made her way to a larger one of them. She sat down and began to breathe heavily. At first, the sound that came from her mouth sounded like nothing more than a phlegmy rattle, but it gradually took on the character of a deep hum.

Soon, a strange white light began to pour from her nostrils and open mouth and coalesce before her. Within minutes, they had formed a man--the bug-eyed, mousy fellow she has supposedly killed.

"Was the madame's show convincing?" he asked after a surreptitious inspection to find himself, once again, whole.

"Perhaps too convincing, Morraigne," she replied, rising painfully. "You played your part well."

"Does the Madame wish anything else of me?" he asked. In contrast to the shrill, anxious tone he had assumed earlier, his voice seemed rather droll and monotonous.

"Yes," she began. "A battlemage was present at our gathering. It seemed for a time that I would be able to strike a bargain with her, but that... fell through."

Morraigne listened with the intent look of a servant reserving his judgments.

"It would be best if I were to retire to the country manor for a time--perhaps permanently," she continued. "Make ready the servants and my carriage, arrange for the transport of my possessions, and see about provisions. I want to arrive in no less than three days, and I want it ready for me when I get there."

Morraigne nodded and went off, presumably to fetch her coach. Only then did Priscilla turn to notice Akula. He was standing off at a polite distance with his head bowed humbly.

"You're still here," she said. "What do you want?"

She approached him. "Oh yes. Remuneration I suppose."

She held out a bag to him. The Bishani in it rattled noisily. "Take it and go. I suggest that you use it to hide yourself as well."